


A Night of Peace

by Miny21



Category: Quest for Glory
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miny21/pseuds/Miny21
Summary: Wouned in battle, Devon receives a sign beckoning him to a place of safety and shelter.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Night of Peace

Devon knew he made a grave mistake.

He had lost track of time, searching through the forest for the ingredients he needed in the dispel potion. He had the light of the day on his side to search it entirely, but goblins and brigands, each, found it a good time to attack him. Yes, he could have ran away at any time, but the thought of them plaguing the forest and Spielburg didn’t sit that well with him.

And before Devon knew it, the sun was setting. He was too far away from the city gates, no way he couldn’t reach them by going at a walking pace, but he might reach them if he ran.

Even then, the forest itself seemed bet on passage. Devon found himself lost in the dark, all the roads looked the same, and he could just barely see the stars on the dark sky.

Spielburg was east, right? So, if he followed the right star he could find his way east. Right?

If only there was no low, loud growling coming from the bushes. No, coming from all around him.

Shield and sword ready, Devon searched around, eyes and ears trying their hardest to find the source.

And the source came from where he expected it the least.

It came from behind.

Devon barely raise his shield fast enough from stopping the claws to cut him into ribbons.

Its black fur made it camouflage perfectly with the dark forest, being almost invisible if not for the slight amber glow of their eyes. All it took was for its low growl to confirm it. Devon was face to face with a cheetaur, a beast he only heard of, and one from which he knew he was outmatched. He might be good with the sword, but not good enough yet to fight a cheetaur face to face.

Unfortunately, the cheetaur didn’t care about that. It just went forth with no warning, Devon barely dodging a downward swipe. The beast skidded forward a few steps, giving Devon enough time to plant a deep gash in the beast’s side.

It was too early to celebrate, Devon knew it, he hadn’t done enough damage to kill it, and so he stood ready for another attack.

He just made it angry. Very angry.

With a mighty roar, the beast came upon him again. Devon raised his shield early, only to find out the beats was smarter that it looked. It grabbed the shield, pushing it to the side, leaving Devon empty for the beast to trust his head forward, jaws open. Only by quick reflexes, Devon blocked the attack with his sword.

The cheetaur bit down hard on the sword blade, cutting deeply into its skull. But it wasn’t done yet. With all that it had left, the cheetaur swiped horizontally.

Whenever by reflex or to have the last hit, Devon turned his sword sideways and pulled it back, welcoming the resistance he felt. He took a couple of steps back, the cheetaur collapsing a moment after, never to rise again.

Adrenaline still pumping in his veins, he felt a warm and wet sensation moving down his chest, soaking up his shirt and tunic.

Damn, those cheetaur claws are sharper than they look.

Feeling as his knees were about to give out, Devon, grabbed the potion bottle on his belt, pulling the cork out with his teeth and spitting it away, and downed the whole bottle in one go.

To be fair, these potions don’t taste as bad as most would say.

But, on the other hand, the same people were right when they said that the healing process would hurt. Devon grit his teeth, bracing himself from the worst, but, even then, a groan of pain escaped his lips.

Just one potion won’t be enough to heal this wound entirely, but it was just more than enough. The bleeding stopped and he was sure the worst of it passed, but it left him left him with just a gnawing ache and a sharp pain whenever he moved wrong. That would pass too, at some point, but he had other things to worry about.

Devon was lost and wounded in a dangerous dark forest. It took just one cheetaur to do this, what if he met another one on the road? Spielburg was still a long distance away, and even if he could attract the attention of some night guard with something like a fire bolt launched in the sky, the same problem would appear, he wasn’t alone in this forest. And even then, he wasn’t as good with magic as he was with his sword.

And it was all forgotten when a peculiar apparition appeared, pulling Devon out of his worried thoughts.

A blue butterfly flew by, its soft glow a sharp contrasting with the black woods. It stood a few meters from Devon, floating by, but not away. One word came into Devon’s mind.

Magic.

Leaving the sword in his shield hand, Devon stretched his palm outwards towards the butterfly. The butterfly flew around it for a moment, landing gently on Devon’s finger. It spread its wings, glowing brighter for a moment and flew away, as if it beckoned Devon to follow it.

For as much danger as it could bring, Devon couldn’t find himself distrusting the magic butterfly. It had an aura, a kind of magic that he could trust, that would, somehow, never betray him. And, because of this, was so that Devon followed the butterfly through the trees, but still keeping an eye out for any beast that could jump into his way.

Surprisingly enough, there was none.

Slowly, but surely, step by step, Devon eased the grip on his sword, there really was no monster waiting for him on the road. Maybe a good sign, but one that brought on some questions nonetheless. Why wouldn’t anything attack him?

But the answer to that question would come another day. Now, the butterfly stopped from moving forward, floating up and down, as if it was waiting for Devon.

Coming closer to it, Devon could feel the ground being just slightly different. It was a bit flatter, like if the place has been walked a lot. An abandoned path, yes, but a path nonetheless. Devon looked at the butterfly once again; it fluttered its wings and flew away down the path much faster than before. Devon considered calling after it for a moment, but it was too late, it became just a small ball of blue light point in the distance.

And what else hade he to do, but go where the butterfly went.

As Devon went on, the path slowly raised itself up, showing him more of what was about to come. A small glow illuminated what was ahead. Nothing like a lamp or a torch, something more like the one butterfly had shown.

And that was just the start.

The more he climbed, the more he saw of the clearing, until it was all in view.

There weren’t any words Devon could say that would bring justice to what he saw in front of him. A place surrounded by snow, but not covered by it, where the air of spring was cool, but not cold. Covered in flowers of all colors covered the meadow floor, giving the butterflies of just as many colors a place to rest.

And in the middle of it all, stood a solitary tree. Through the vibrantly green leaves, were peppered here and there brightly colored fruits, all bigger than an apple, with a crystal-like shine.

But above it all, Devon felt all his worries melt away like the snow in the spring, as if the magic that was embracing this whole clearing was embracing him. No wonder why there was no monster on the road to here, this magic was the reason.

In this dim light, Devon didn’t see the large rock a few meters in front of the tree, until he tripped upon it. Thankfully, he found his footing quickly, but that didn’t stop the wave of sharp pain to course through his body and to nearly set him on his knees.

Ah, yes, the wounds. He’d nearly forgotten about them. And now that he thought about it, no wonder why. The gnawing ache, it disappeared. It hadn’t been on his mind ever since the butterfly made itself know.

The meadow, there was no other explanation of why it went away so quickly. From the looks of it, the magic that permeates this place, it heals too, no wonder why it made his pain go away. Either his claw wounds were too big or would take much longer than that.

Devon sighed and, slowly and carefully, crouched down next to the rock, placing a hand on it for support.

Well then, he thought, while he ran his hand on the rock’s surface what were these indentations?

Tracing them with his fingers, Devon could make a few words. “Peace”, “garden”, “a long time ago”, and – ah, now he understood. Looking back, it all made sense.

All the stories he heard in Spielburg and around it, they told him about it and about who made it, but never where it was.

Devon was in Erana’s Peace. Build by the Erana herself, the mage made this place as a place of shelter and peace, kept alive long after her disappearance, the magic from which she made it long since becoming one with the land. Some rumors even say that this is her final resting place, but everybody, he in Spielburg he had talked to, knew it wasn’t.

He would check it out tomorrow. Now that the adrenaline wore off, Devon could feel the exhaustion seeping into his bones. All the fighting, all the stress, the near-death experience and the walk to Erana’s Peace has squeezed all the energy he had. Good thing he stood down, otherwise he was sure he couldn’t stay upright.

Devon had no doubt in mind when he thought about the meadow, he was safe here, nothing would attack him in the night. Devon rested his shield and sword by his side, and found himself, near the stone, a place of rest, where the grass was long and thick enough to make a quite comfortable makeshift bed. His expectations might be low, he had worse, after all, but it was quite comfortable nonetheless.

And so, slowly but surely, Devon fell in deep peaceful sleep.

\----

When Devon woke up, he wasn’t in Erana’s Peace anymore. The world around him was nothing but a black void, going on outwards for an eternity. And yet, Devon didn’t feel in danger. Yes, he was alone, but he didn’t feel alone or lost.

Devon looked around in the hopes maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this place. And so he’d found a green path where one wasn’t there before.

And forward he went, the world around becoming more and more alive, green hills rolling far, ending in lush forest that continued onwards to into the unknow. He thought about going towards them, but that wasn’t his path.

His path continued to climb upwards, until it reached its peak. From there Devon could see his path continuing on until it reached the shore of large lake.

There, near the shore, with her face away from Devon, stood, no, floated above the water a woman in green robes ending just above her ankles, her long brown hair flowing in an invisible a wind. He’d never seen her, barely heard of her before coming into Spielburg, and, yet, Devon knew who was standing in front of him.

His legs went on without his input, the shape of the mage growing bigger and bigger as he got closer.

He wanted to call out for her, but Devon couldn’t find his voice no matter how hard he tried.

But, somehow, he was heard. The woman flinched, raising her head a bit as if to hear more clearly what was going on behind her. Slowly, she turned her head to her right, Devon catching a glance of her olive skin before she –

\---

Devon woke up with a start. Where was he? Where did the lake go? Where was…

“Erana?” Devon mumbled, only now finding his voice. That was Erana, no doubt about it. The knowledge came to him naturally, even if he had no idea how she looked like.

Devon looked around, the surroundings looking unfamiliar for a moment – Wait, no no, now it came back to him.

He was still in Erana’s Peace. Alone, but safe and sound. And not only that. His wounds, they healed! The shirt and tunic needed repairs, but now Devon didn’t he ever felt this good!

The meadow’s magic only needed time, there was no other way to explain it. For something as strong and full of magic, even it had its own limits.

Now that reminded him of something. He needed some kind of magical flowers for the dispel potion. And look where he was!

A bouquet of them should be more than enough. And now the stone. In daylight, he could finally read what was written upon it.

“ _For those in search of peace, this garden shall be your home, safe and warm_.” Devon read the first paragraph, tilting his head at the second one. “ _If thy Will is Magic, so shall I share. Open this Stone and claim what is there._ ” He mumbled as he tried to make heads and tails of the words. Magic, hmm? Oh, yes, now he got it. But he none of the spells he had at this were the right ones for this task.

With this in mind, Devon knew that, for the moment, he’d done most of what could be done here. And so, Devon gathered his sword and shield, ready to go back into the forest. He needed to come back, of course, and he will come, of course. But not only for that… There was something else here.

That dream with Erana – it must have meant something.

Still, as he left the meadow, Devon could feel something warm enveloping him, as if the meadow itself, or the soul of the one who made it, gave him a one last embrace.


End file.
